Page 11 of Hockey Heart

“Eighty-three thousand dollars!”

His eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head.

“Edward!” the mermaid howled, “Let’s stay for just one more!”

“Get on with it,” I growled at him under my breath.

“Okay, just one!” He called back, and then he scrawled out the numbers on his checkbook.

“You should be thanking me,” he hissed as he thrust the paper into my outstretched palm.

In return, I threw him a look that told him exactly what Ithought to that, before I turned on my heels to go and claim my rightful prize. Striding back into the ball, Kensy was by the doors, looking for me.

“There you are! Did you get him!?”

I nodded, looking down at the check in my hands like it was a golden ticket. In a funny kind of way, I guess it was. Was this really happening?

“Then let’s go get him!”

It only hit me properly then. Byhim,she meant Hayden Raynor. I actually had adatewithHayden Raynor!

We found the auctioneer’s assistant by the stage, looking annoyed.

“There you are! You’re meant to come straight up to the stage.”

Kensy chimed in, “Bathroom break. I have a weak bladder. Is that a problem?”

He stared back at her uncomfortably, and then sighed painfully.

“Check?”

“Oh, actually two checks!”

After I handed them to him, he seemed a lot more relaxed. “Well, Mrs. Mitchell…”

“Miss!” I corrected him, still in disbelief.

“Okay,MissMitchell. Just go through those doors and enjoy your evening.”

Kensy was hopping and clapping her hands together next to me. We hugged excitedly, before I turned in a daze and left her to go and meet my destiny.

Through the double doors, he was already there, waiting. For a moment I could hardly breathe as I looked up at him, actually standing in front of me, waiting for his date withme.

“Hi Hayden,” I said, with shy velvet on my tongue.

“Yeah. Hi.” He barely took a glance at me.

“Nice shirt,” I offered.

It wasn’t really a nice shirt, it was just a white t-shirt. But I suppose what I really meant waslove that torso on you. Maybe he’d throw me a compliment back, something I could really savor for weeks - or even months - afterward, and then we’d smile and go on our date.

“Huh? Okay.” He grunted, looking down at the cotton that covered the ripple of muscles below.

He looked back up at me dumbly, before mumbling flatly, “I guess let’s go eat or something.”

“I’d like that,” I gushed back at him.

Should I slide my arm into his? Take his hand?

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